* * *
Over the next few days Hal played the part of the gentleman he professed to be to the max. Gone was the teasing, provocative banter that Kit had come to love and expect, that suggested he was more bad boy than gentleman. A much more sedate, thoughtful man took his place. In fact he’d become so quiet that she fretted his leg wasn’t healing as well as it should be and that it was seriously bothering him. When she checked with him he always immediately denied anything was amiss and returned to the book he was reading, or to his study to work, with an expression that told her friendly conversation was off the agenda and he would prefer not to be disturbed.
There was no more talk of him choosing their nightly entertainment either. Kit couldn’t deny she wasn’t upset about that. Her nightly dreams were all about Hal. So much so that she sometimes woke up in a sweat, with her heart racing dizzyingly. Her visions of him and her together were so real that she was crushed when she woke up and realised they were just nocturnal fantasies. She might get to the end of this job with her self-enforced celibacy intact, but that didn’t mean she would be remotely happy about it—not when her heart already ached at the mere idea of parting from Hal for good.
When the nurse paid her next visit to examine his injured leg and with a cheerful smile declared it to be ‘healing nicely’, adding that it was just a matter of time before he would return to full strength, to Kit’s mind Hal didn’t seem entirely convinced. When the nurse went on to say that he should take advantage of some regular physiotherapy before seeing his consultant again, and that Kit should make sure to keep up the RICE treatment, he gave a brief nod of agreement, thanked her for the advice and saw her to the door in his wheelchair.
He still wasn’t in the mood for conversation, it seemed...
The night after the nurse’s visit Kit lay in bed, staring up at the shadowed ceiling in her bedroom for what seemed like hours, because she’d been alternately teased and tormented by the memory of Hal’s taste in her mouth and his hands on her body and as a result sleep evaded her. But eventually she fell into a fitful doze.
A loud shout woke her up. Immediately responding, she hurriedly pushed aside the sheets and counterpane and scrambled to her feet. Without even pausing to grab the striped cotton robe she’d draped over the back of a slipper chair, she ran outside into the corridor and pushed opened Hal’s bedroom door.
The soft light in the hallway more than adequately illuminated the room. Wearing navy silk boxers, Hal was positioned half in and half out of the voluminous bed, gripping onto the oyster-coloured silk sheets for grim death as his cast-covered leg precariously slid towards the floor.
Kit grabbed hold of him to prevent him from falling just in the nick of time. His broad, hard-muscled back was slippery with sweat and it was no easy feat to lift and push his heavy masculine frame safely back onto the bed, because he was clearly still half asleep and in no position to help her. Thankfully her reaction had been lightning-quick and had saved the day. A heavy fall onto that broken bone of his would have set him back several months at least, she was sure.
As he fell back against the pillows and stared dazedly up at her she gently ran her hand over his forehead, pushing back the rebellious dark curls that brushed against it.
‘Are you okay? You gave me an almighty shock when I heard you cry out like that.’
‘I’m fine.’ Although Hal’s smile was definitely on the drowsy side, his mercurial hazel eyes still managed a mischievous twinkle. ‘Thanks to you. You really are my guardian angel, aren’t you, Kit? Quite apt that you should rescue me when I was dreaming that you were in my arms.’
Still leaning over him, Kit turned as still as a statue. The remark had sent her own temperature skyrocketing and she was suddenly aware that the only thing separating them was the flimsy chemise she wore, which she’d impulsively bought from a vintage market stall in the Portobello Road. In truth, it was totally impractical, but she loved it. With its spaghetti shoulder straps, and a scooped neckline that just about covered her breasts, it was probably the most feminine item of clothing she possessed. And beneath the hyacinth-coloured material, apart from her panties, she was as bare as the day she was born.
‘It must have been quite a dream if it nearly made you fall out of bed,’ she replied huskily.
‘It was. If it was graded by a panel of judges, the medal it would win would definitely be gold.’
‘What were you doing...? Wrestling with me?’
Hal’s chameleon golden-eyed gaze was no longer drowsy but wide and alert. In a flash his hands moved to fasten themselves round Kit’s slender-boned wrists and her heart thudded so hard in surprise that the desire to be free again didn’t even cross her mind.